Warmth radiated from the fireplace, but a cold chill sunk across Nadier's heart as he looked out across the tavern. Hidden underneath every cloak of parties swigging ale and chanting roars were blades and iron barrels that shimmied out just enough for one to glimpse death. Yet Trini crossed the floors without a drip of fear, despite both the wanting and jealous eyes from men and women drawing her steps through the room. She set down two mugs before them. The heat from the fire knocked against the copper pipes, letting out a ringing bell.

“I don't drink,” Nadier told her.

“Not even water?” she held out the cup with clear liquid, and he took it. “But I do remember you being extremely entertaining when drunk.”

“Titan's tits...” he cursed. Seemed a few personality traits did carry over between his two lives. “We don't speak of that. Ever.”

“Drunk version of me is the best version of me,” Arbor continued. The voice in his head had not left.

“You were very suave while drunk.”

“Please stop it.” Nadier took a mouthful of water and found himself breathing out warm mist.

He was not sure if he or Arbor said the next line. “Now, what are we doing here?”

“In any case,” Trini continued, “We need to talk about your memories.”

“What about them?”

“How have you remembered?”

“Does it matter?”

She silently drank her drink. He was not sure if it was water or spirit, for it was as clear as his. “Does it matter if it matters?” A slight navy blue came back to her lips after the warm drink touched them. “I'm simply interested. Curiosity, if you may.”

“People like you are never simply curious.”

“And what kind of “people” am I?”

“Smart. Cunning.”

Arbor chimed in, “And beautiful.”

With a disinterested tone, she said, “Stop. You'll make me blush.” Her cheeks were flushing, but he was not sure they were from her drink, or from his words. “If you ever remember everything, who do you think you'll be?”

“What do you mean?” Nadier asked.

“I'm me,” Arbor replied to another question, though the answer strangely fitting.

“People change, Wanderer. Two hundred years as you, two hundred years as Arbor. If all your memories come back, which one do you think will win the keys to the future.” She swirled her mug around, and he could see the sea whirling in the reflection of her eyes. “You two are similar in many ways, but different in others, I believe that now. But there's enough of him in you that I think you will still make the same choices, the same mistakes he made.”

“I'm not like other guys,” Nadier could feel Arbor winking as the latter said that.

“You may not think like him. But you walk like him, and you fight like him. The muscle memories, the subconscious, the root of your personality, is still his.”

“Who was he?”

She smirked. “Oh, I believe I told you to figure that out yourself.”

“I'm not asking you what he did. I'm asking you what he was before this whole business with The Arena. You've practically been reading my mind this whole time, so I'm guessing you knew Arborior pretty well.”

She sighed heavily before finishing up the rest of her drink in one fell swoop with a daint and fluid swig, as if she did no more than sip. “He was a wanderer, and traveller. Owed a lot of money to a lot of people in Nugoh. His debt was bought by me, of course. And I brought him here to settle it.” She waved to the bartender for another mug. “Despite his personality flaws, he had a way around with people. Charismatic, in a hateful manner, with people willing to listen.”

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Surprised, Nadier noted, “A leader?” He had not pegged Winterwayn for the leading type.

“No. There were others more qualified leaders. He was more an adhesive. He could bring people together. Everyone trusted him enough to speak, but not enough to die. When playing a game where every moving pieces is on a different board, someone that can transfer from one to the other becomes crucial.”

“A spy then.”

“Yes.” As if reading his thoughts again, she said, “It's not much a surprise you are an assassin. Simply one step up.”

Nadier did not like that comparison with his past. He did not know enough yet about Arbor to determine just what kind of man he was, but he did not enjoy the idea that his free will was not entirely his own.

“You seem like you still have questions.”

“Mountains of them.”

“Example,” Arbor chimed in. “Are you single?”

“I'm sure you want answers.”

“I wouldn't have asked if I didn't,” Arbor joked.

“Too bad,” Trini punctuated. “I can't risk it.”

Nadier raised a brow. “Why the cage? Aren't the memories mine?”

“You would think that, wouldn't you?” She leaned back with a playful grin. A server came up to her and served her a drink, to which she gave him her thanks.

“You know, I'm quite smart myself.”

“Mmm,” she sipped her drink. “I don't doubt it.”

“You've practically been reading my mind since the day we've met. Deductions, I assume, with experience, and knowledge of my past.”

“Your point?”

“I can play deductions too.”

Her lips curled charmingly into a childish smile, if not, genuine excitement. “Oh? Are you going to deduce my plans? Play at Octavia Holmes? Figure out why I've been hiding so much from you? Maybe figure out all your past in one fell swoo-”

“You like bad boys,” he cut in.

“Gotcha,” Arbor laughed as a stunned look washed over Trini.

“You enjoy the company of people who can fluster you,” Nadier continued unhindered. “Someone who can say what they think about you, flattering your beauty and poise without a second thought for decorum. One who can stun your wit and intellect with sheer stubborn brute flirtation.”

She looked away, and this time, he was sure the blush on her cheeks were from his words. “You find me beautiful?” she turned back with her best recovery.

“It was an example,” he sighed. “Don't dodge.”

“I would never.” She pulled a hand to her chest and toyed with the seams of her dress. “That was my... preference, in the past, I admit. But I have since grew out of it.”

“Was it me?”

“You?” she playfully pinched.

“You know what I mean. Was it me? Arborior?”

“Yes.”

“Wait,” His brain stopped function. “Did you mean yes to me? Or to Arbor?”

“Yes.” Her smile grew wider.

Before they could continue their battle of wits, the door to the tavern opened, pushing in cold wind and blankets of snow. The patrons jeered at the entering woman to close the door, and she did so hastily. She scanned the room until her eyes landed on Trini who she walked over to.

“Lady Trini,” the newcomer greeter. “Master Trishtam is ready.”

“Already?” Trini replied, surprised. “It's only been a little over an hour.”

“He's particularly motivated today.”

She nodded understandingly and stood up. Nadier followed swiftly. “Very well then, lead the way.”

More stares traced her movements, and he noted, "People aren't fond of you, are they?"

"People here mostly wants for only three things. Money, power, and sex. Overtaking my father can give the first two, but the third one's all me."

As they walked towards the door, Nadier took a half turn back to their table. He watched as a fleeting vision of Arbor and a younger Trini converse there, laughing silent ghostly laughs, a smaller Zen sleeping at the table's foot. Then, he blinked, and the memory faded. His head was clear again, the sense of his old voice echoing to him no longer nagging the back of his mind. He hoped the mental peace would last as he left the tavern.

The trio crossed the streets and cut the town, moving in pace towards the tailor. When they reached, the assistant knocked the door and opened it for the pair, Trini thanking the former for her service before entering with Nadier.

“Trishtam,” she greeted.

“Ah!” The old tailored welcomed with open arms. “My masterpiece this season is back.”

Nadier raised a brow. “Masterpiece?”

“Yes. I was going through the old design, and had to make some alterations. My memory of you returned, and the suit simply doesn't... well... suit you no longer.” He pulled a stand he was working on out from behind his desk. “Try it on!”

Nadier glanced to Trini, and she snidely remarked, “Embarrassed?”

“Hardly,” he answered the challenge, taking off his coat.

Though he confidently stripped down to his underwear, Nadier did not attempt to look back to see her reaction, instead, focusing on dressing himself. A long, night dark silk pants covered his legs with a comfortable looseness. It stretched well, and heavy enough that it not rolled up his knees. Two leather straps decorated each side of his shins. A long sleeved shirt of black cloth - from a material that seemed to almost absorb light - went over his torso. Its sleeves were layered at the shoulder, cascading to his elbows like dragon's scales. Finally, an oak brown leather vest over everything, tightening at his waist and shoulders, letting his body have free mobility. He ran his hand over the clothing and found his hand sleeping underneath the double layers into a hidden pocket. A quick search of the scales of his sleeves revealed more straps underneath, perfect for hiding a small blade, or a vial of poison

He noted, “This in an assassin outfit.”

“Very astute, Master Wanderer. Fit for one to slit the throats of gods.”